


Steam Rises

by waterofthemoon



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cheesy Porn Tropes, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), First Time, Flirty Redhead Rails Hot Blond as Part of His Post-Workout Self Care, Gym Sex, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, steam room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon
Summary: After his gym workout, Aziraphale finds himself being propositioned in the steam room by a hot redhead who's been checking him out. The feeling is very, very mutual.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 224
Collections: Ineffablexxx - Directors Cut, Top Crowley Library





	Steam Rises

**Author's Note:**

> I'm jumping on @hanap and @NaroMoreau's cheesy porn tropes bandwagon with a _steamy_ (ahem) fill of my own. 💦 This was so much fun to write! Thanks to @Liquid_Lyrium for reading it over and making it so much better!

"I saw you out there. Eyeing me up."

Aziraphale looks up to see a man draped in the doorway of the steam room, where he's been quite alone until now—that's part of the reason he comes to the gym this late in the evening, in fact. He grabs for his towel, which he discarded in a spot of endorphin-related recklessness when he realized the room was indeed empty, but it's fallen to the floor and gotten soaked. A lost cause, then.

He recognizes the man immediately from the gym, although he was wearing more clothing then. Now he's as bare as Aziraphale is under the towel slung low around his hips, all lean muscle and a shock of red hair, curling slightly in the steam. The man raises an eyebrow. "You're doing it again. Not exactly subtle, are you."

Despite the heat in the room and how flushed he must already be, Aziraphale feels a blush rising to his cheeks. "I do apologize. I didn't mean to stare."

"You mean you didn't mean to get _caught_ staring." The man toys with the knot of his towel and angles his body so Aziraphale gets a tantalizing flash of upper thigh through the gap. _Oh, good lord._

"Well, you were lifting weights, and quite impressively, too." Aziraphale calls up the memory of how he looked, lean and strong in his tank top and shorts, like a modern-day Adonis. He was wearing sunglasses earlier, but he's taken them off now. "The way your arms were flexing… er. Not that that's a a good excuse, is it?"

The man takes a few steps into the room, swinging his hips alluringly. Aziraphale watches, open-mouthed, as he drags his fingers across his towel and pulls it aside, revealing that he's already hard and leaking underneath it.

"Nah, it's all right." He waves a careless hand through the air. "I was looking at you, too, you know. Doing your whole _elliptical_ thing."

Somehow, he manages to make Aziraphale's workout routine sound like the most lascivious thing possible. Dropping the towel entirely and running a hand through his hair, he sits next to Aziraphale on the tile bench, so close that their naked thighs touch.

"I couldn't help it, either," he continues. "Not with you moving your legs on that bike like that. That curvy bottom of yours in those little gym shorts. You're so…." He makes a gesture to encompass the whole of Aziraphale's nude body and looks him up and down with obvious appreciation.

Aziraphale's cock, heavy and obvious between his legs, begins to rise and fill. He should likely be alarmed that a man he doesn't know was watching him so intently, but the interest _is_ rather mutual. "So what?"

" _Gorgeous_ ," the man says, and then he takes Aziraphale's face between those naughty, clever hands of his and kisses him.

Aziraphale groans into it and kisses him back, slides his tongue between the man's lips, pulls him close until they're practically on top of each other, and oh, isn't that a lovely thought.

"I'm not in the habit of kissing strangers, so I _do_ hope we won't be strangers much longer," Aziraphale says, while they're still almost lip to lip. "What's your name?"

"Crowley." He slides his hand down and squeezes the flesh of Aziraphale's hip. "What's yours, sweetheart?"

"It's, ah, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale braces himself for the odd look, maybe a demand for the spelling of it, but Crowley rolls it over his tongue like a well-known prayer, pronounces each syllable beautifully. " _Aziraphale._ It's a pleasure."

And he knows, then, that he's going to let this man fuck him, and what's more, he's not going to let him go if he can help it. Their mouths crash into each other's again, hungry and desperate, colliding in hot, wet movements of lips and tongue.

Sweat pours over them both, a good, cleansing sweat, and all that bare, damp skin ramps up things quite dramatically. Aziraphale runs his hands all over Crowley's back, quite unable to stop touching now that he's allowed.

"I have—things. Lubricant and condoms." Aziraphale pulls back to watch Crowley's face, which has gone wide-eyed with surprise and lust in equal measures.

Crowley looks around. "What, you brought them in here? Expecting company, were you?"

"In my _locker_ ," Aziraphale chides. "And, well, it never hurts to be prepared, does it?" He leans in and pecks Crowley on the mouth. "Be right back."

He feels a bit foolish, wrapping up in Crowley's abandoned towel—tented significantly in front—and padding out to the thankfully empty but rather chilly changing room, where he retrieves his supplies from the inner pocket of his satchel. He's never had cause to use them before; he wants very much for Crowley to give him cause. He grabs one of the clean, folded towels from the rack, too.

When he comes back, Crowley has his legs spread wide and is idly stroking himself, up and down, eyes half-lidded with the tease of it. Aziraphale makes sure he's watching, then lets the sodden towel fall to the floor in one fell swoop. He resists the urge to preen when Crowley visibly swallows.

"Uh—yeah. C'mere."

Crowley stretches his hands out with a beckoning motion, and Aziraphale goes straight away, climbing into Crowley's lap and straddling his skinny hips. It's been so long since he's had anyone's naked body beneath his; he savors it, rubbing against Crowley just to feel the heat and humidity build between them.

A fond, amused smile graces Crowley's face as he tilts his head up. "Having fun?"

Aziraphale thinks he ought to be embarrassed—he's got a hot, willing guy with him, and he's not even frotting with him right—but somehow, he feels so comfortable around Crowley, so raring to go. Maybe it's something about being naked together straight off, or maybe it's that instant connection between them.

Either way, he grinds down properly into Crowley's lap, right up against his huge, hard cock. He's bigger than Aziraphale would have thought, given his slim frame. Aziraphale can't wait to feel it inside him.

"Get me ready." He brushes his lips against Crowley's. "I want you to fuck me. If you want to?"

Aziraphale leans back and stares at Crowley's face to watch for his answer, studying him, trying to memorize all the handsome, irregular details—the laugh lines, the high cheekbones, the particular shape of his nose. The color of his eyes, practically gold in the warm light of the steam room. Just in case it's a one time thing and this is the only time they ever see each other.

"Yeah." Crowley takes a sharp breath in and closes his eyes. "Yeah. You've no idea how much."

He takes the lube packet from Aziraphale's hand and holds it in the palm of his hand to warm it, then nudges at Aziraphale's hip. Aziraphale gets up obligingly and stretches out on the bench, watching with a fondness that surprises him when Crowley takes the time to fluff the extra towel and arrange it behind his head.

He feels delicious, surrounded by hot steam and laid out naked for Crowley's pleasure, so ready for Crowley to do whatever he likes to him. When Crowley straddles the bench and slicks up his fingers, Aziraphale can't help it; he wiggles a bit in delightful anticipation.

"Eager, hmmm?" Crowley's eyes flash dark with arousal. "That's good. 'M gonna fuck you so good, right here."

One of Crowley's fingers presses against Aziraphale's entrance, then _in_ , just saying hello, feeling him out. Crowley quickly adds another and scissors them, and Aziraphale bears down on them impatiently, fervently. He savors the burn and stretch, the way those long fingers somehow know just how to tease him.

"More," he moans. "Please."

With a wicked grin, Crowley crooks his fingers inside him. He hardly has to fumble at all to find Aziraphale's prostate. Once he does, he rubs Aziraphale there, pressing his button until Aziraphale is a gasping, whimpering mess in his arms.

Between the sultry atmosphere and Crowley fingering him within an inch of his life, Aziraphale's drenched with sweat, and they haven't even gotten to the main event yet. Somehow, with Crowley, that's all right.

He rubs away the sweat stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. Crowley notices and brushes his free hand through Aziraphale's hair, wipes his brow for him. A droplet of sweat drips off the end of Crowley's nose and onto Aziraphale's cheek. "Doing okay?" Crowley murmurs.

And the idea that someone he's just met would take such care with him, would look out for his well-being and keep pumping his fingers relentlessly at the same time—that's what does it for him more than anything. Aziraphale nods.

"Good." Crowley leans down and meets his lips in a searing kiss. "'Cause I'm gonna fuck you now."

He withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his own thigh, then fumbles to rip open the condom and put it on. Aziraphale spreads his legs wider for him, wraps them around Crowley's waist when Crowley begins to push in.

"Ah!" Crowley's cock splits him open, thick and hard and _exactly_ what Aziraphale wants, right here on this hard bench in the middle of a public steam room, at the gym he goes to when he remembers. He feels slutty, and cared for, and _wonderful_. "Yes, oh, _yes_ , darling. You feel so good."

"Darling, huh?" Crowley slides all the way in, straight to the hilt, and holds himself there, hovering above Aziraphale.

Aziraphale blushes. "It just slipped out."

Crowley nips at Aziraphale's mouth and reaches down to squeeze his bottom. "'S good. Arse like that, you can call me whatever you want."

Then, while Aziraphale's busy getting over _that_ comment, Crowley grips his hips, hauls him up to correct the angle, and begins to _move_.

It's rough, but gentle at the same time, and Aziraphale _loves_ it. He loves the way his back feels, rubbing against the warm tile in time with Crowley's thrusts; he loves the slick slide of their damp, sweaty bodies and the romance of the steam billowing around them; but, most of all, he loves how Crowley fills him up, how Crowley _takes_ him, fucking him hard and fast, practically pinning him to the tile.

Aziraphale's cock, heavy and hard between them, slaps against Crowley's belly with every thrust. The friction of their skin, the sound.of their moans and sighs echoing off the walls and back to them, Crowley's wet fringe and his single-minded focus on getting them off, making it _good_ —all of it drives him closer and closer to the edge, nearly to the peak of his pleasure. He scrabbles at Crowley's back, wild and nearly drunk with it, desperate to come and yet unwilling for it to be over so soon.

With another one of his grins, lazy and filthy with promise, Crowley slips a hand between them and wraps it around Aziraphale's cock, just tight enough to be pleasurable. He strokes him, once, twice, and Aziraphale comes hard with a whine like a tea kettle going off, like a steam release valve to rival that of the room they're in. It spills between them, pooling on Aziraphale's belly and quickly becoming diluted with moisture.

A groan escapes Crowley at the sight. He snaps his hips harder, drives himself forward and _fucks_ Aziraphale, really gives it to him, his thick cock splitting open Aziraphale's spent body and his lean thighs rhythmically slapping against the pillowy flesh of Aziraphale's. Aziraphale savors every moment of it, every thrust in and out, until Crowley stutters and stills inside him, spilling into the condom with a hot pulse Aziraphale can feel.

Crowley collapses on top of him after, panting and exhilarated. "Wow," he says. "I mean, really, wow. You're so…."

He seems to be at a loss for words again. "Easy?" Aziraphale suggests.

"That's me as well, then," Crowley points out. "I was going to say incredible. Stunning. Out of my league. _Wow._ "

Aziraphale reaches up to run a hand through Crowley's soaked hair. "But that's you, too. And _very_ good at bringing me to climax, besides."

"Don't say climax," Crowley grumbles, but he doesn't seem to be that put out about it.

While they smile at each other, Aziraphale absently plays with Crowley's forelock until he has it twirled into an interesting shape. He's not sure what the protocol is now, but he's getting awfully pruny after being in here for so long, and it looks like Crowley's approaching a similar state.

"Well, this was fun," Crowley says after a minute. He levers himself up and pulls out to tie up the condom, which he stares at awkwardly before setting it down on the bench on top of the discarded wrapper and empty lube packet.

Aziraphale's heart drops—this is the part where Crowley leaves and doesn't call him, where he forgets all about him except as an interesting anecdote in his sexual history. But when Crowley clambers off of him, he offers Aziraphale a hand up, then uses the extra towel to wipe away the evidence on both of them. Aziraphale collects their refuse and runs the clean side of the towel over the bench.

"I don't know about you," Crowley starts. Aziraphale's heart gives a hopeful stir. "But I could really use a shower now. You coming?"

"Oh, I do hope so," Aziraphale says, with an involuntary, anticipatory shimmy of his lower body, where he can still feel the clench of Crowley inside him. He decides to press his luck. "And then, perhaps…."

"Dinner?" Crowley suggests, looking just as hopeful.

Aziraphale's sure he must be beaming, his answering smile feels that big and bright. "Yes, please," he says. "After meeting you, I seem to have worked up quite an appetite."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me on Tumblr as [@waterofthemoon](https://waterofthemoon.tumblr.com).


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